


Do Demons Eat Seared Foie Gras at Night?

by Prozaco



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prozaco/pseuds/Prozaco
Summary: Dante and Vergil shared a dinner.
Relationships: Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 58





	Do Demons Eat Seared Foie Gras at Night?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [恶魔会在夜里吃香煎鹅肝吗](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26250301) by [KitschStatue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschStatue/pseuds/KitschStatue). 



Dante and Vergil have nothing to talk about. The _impact_ - _response_ mode applies not only to civilizations but also between the half-demon brothers. The world is a mountain, each action is an echo of their shout, they had shouted too many times, bled too much, crashed against each other without reservation, that the echoes have always struck their ears and made them get used to this unhealthy vertigo. They didn't even know how to break the silence as the mountains suddenly got quiet.

Sometimes Dante would talk about the past, the memories with the aroma of oak and cranberries, and Vergil was annoyed as if Dante wanted to play kind of tender game of finding the old brotherhood with him, but many of his memories had been lost. People shape themselves by relationships with others, and others look for validation by talking about themselves. Vergil resisted _Vergil_ being molded by it.

Dante was sensitive, he just shut his mouth before he pushed against his brother's boundary as Vergil showed his resistance.

There’s always an opportunity for engaged dialogue between people. Doing the same thing, going through the same difficulties, or having the same hobbies, but they simply don't have anything that both of them enjoy — except fighting — and for the sake of the glass that hasn't been repaired, the instincts of the half-demon's tell them it's better not to try.

For people that are already cohabiting (forced, without a doubt), the easiest opportunity is to have a meal together.

But they like different foods and have never feel like sharing a lunch.

Dante eats nothing when he has no money, eats pizza when he has, and Vergil didn't care. It was Dante's but none of his businesses. He learned to eat human food, no reason to torture his stomach on a quiet peaceful day.

And that's the problem.

The peace. Everything was too peaceful. Vergil thought about what he'd do when all that was over. Read the books he had never finished, experience things he had never experienced...but when the day did come, he found himself with nothing to do.

For the first time of his life, there was nothing for him to chase, but solid at his feet.

What would _Vergil_ do in such a situation?

Read a book? Get a job? Traveling around and enjoying life?

As a boy, he thought: when I gain enough power, I'll... Then he was defeated by Mundus, then he thought: when I get my revenge, I'll... The more he tried what _Vergil_ was trying to do, the emptier he became, as if his life was a protracted tautology.

The smell of pizza wafted into his nose.

Obviously, Dante was eating pizza again today.

He saw Dante's mug in the glass case. What the hell was that design? He wondered why the handle was embedded in the inside of the cup, like a hand growing on the inside of someone’s skin by mistake.

It seems like one of those days, it suddenly occurred to him that, he had told himself that he would eat lots and lots of delicious food when he got out of the Hell.

For a young half-demon raised on human food, demon meat tasted terrible. Vergil tried to make a fire, it was always easy to do in the books, a couple of lines of narrative, an illustration, and bang, a new era of using fire. But there were no trees in the Hell, and he'd never managed to make a fire from stones. He had to eat it raw. Demon corpses had tough outer skin and firm flesh that required all your strength to bite off, and you had to swallow the gushing blood quickly, or they would choke on your windpipe. Vergil had contributed a long-suffering baby tooth to the demon meat.

But finding demon corpses were a matter of luck. On most days Vergil didn't even get to eat demon meat. In the food chain on Earth, carnivores hunt herbivores, and herbivores eat plants, but all demons in Hell are meat-eating creatures, as flesh and blood are the concretizations of power. This is the unique law of the jungle in Hell, who do not hunt shall not eat.

Vergil had learned early on to feed himself with himself. A young half-demon was the best prey, just as the peacock feathers were his enemy. He gradually learned which organs regenerated rapidly, where to cut was less painful and would not impact his mobility. In a blood-stained grotto, he got his first taste of liver, delighting in its superior rate of regeneration, and realized that his body was indeed the very object and target of exerted power, could be used, modified, and improved, with the rule that you had to give what you wanted. It was the day he finally had a fulfilled stomach for weeks and fell asleep, ended up with his hand healing into his stomach, waking up with numb fingers feeling his own soft intestines.

When all was said and done, Vergil tried every kind of food human society had to offer.

But nothing tasted better than his own liver.

Vergil started to eat his liver in secret. He vaguely understood that this behavior was not encouraged, which was why he kept eating in his locked room. At times Dante asked him: “What had you been doing in the house?”

Vergil hated such questions. He thought: what kind of answer were you expecting? A long story? We all sat around the warm fireplace and confessed our sins, our thoughts and desires, our pasts and dreams, our childhoods, our misfortunes?

So he did not answer.

Dante paused for a moment, giving up on getting an answer from his brother. " I did smell the blood sometimes.” He said, “you weren't hiding a body upstairs, were you?”

“Sure you did. Thankfully, your sense of smell is pretty sharp for a dog leashed here.”

Dante answered cheerfully: “Then we are in the same cage now.”

Vergil felt like a pinprick. At night, he heard Dante humming through the thin walls, then he knocked on Vergil's door and shouted: “Vergil, got a mission, I'll be back in three days.”

Dante returned just in time to run into the scene of his meal.

“What are you doing?”

Vergil admitted, “I'm eating my liver.”

Dante's face was weirdly stiff. He looked as if he was sick to his stomach and couldn't help but observe the soft, smooth organ in Vergil's hand. Of course, he was curious, it was something even Vergil found delicious.

Now they had their first ice-breaking topic.

Vergil showed him how to take out the liver intact and quickly, and Dante typed in pan-fried foie gras on a search engine to teach him how to cook it in a modern way. After taking care of the vessels and blood, the slices of livers were a healthy pink.

They made a clear distinction: the Left one was mine, the Right one was yours. Then the slices were soaked in a bowl of milk and sprinkled with salt and black pepper. Marinated for a while — there was supposed to be an exact time, but after studying why the minute hand was moving so slowly, Dante realized that the wall clock had been broken for some time.

The next step was to cook it. Dante picked the one recipe that looked the most reliable from the search results, turned on the gas, heated the pan, added a bit of butter, and fried it quickly. Sweet smoke burst from the surface of the liver with the butter, Dante had his hands full, probably the first time he'd turned on the hood this year. The surface of Dante's fresh liver soon became rich and golden. He even heard Vergil swallowing. Given that Dante only had one frying pan, they had to line up to use it. Vergil suggested that they could hold it over the fire in their hands as they weren't concerned about getting burned anyway, but Dante said “your hands would get greasy then,” so Vergil had to be nice and get in line.

Finally, the dishes were served. Vergil tossed his liver into the pan as Dante scooped the blueberry jam. When Vergil arrived at the table with the fried liver, Dante opened a bottle of white wine. He didn't find the white wine glasses, so he pour the wine into the large Coke glasses. They were really large, and a bottle of white wine is nearly bottomed out when he filled these two glasses.

Vergil cut off a small piece of liver and put it in his mouth. He didn't say anything, closing his mouth tightly to feel how the soft, slippery liver melted on his tongue.

Dante swapped the half left with him, commenting that his own liver was more delicious, probably because of the fat content — “remind me to eat more junk food later.” It was rare that Vergil didn't disagree with him.

They began to talk, not about each other, but the various foods and finally about the feeding of the geese. They are forced to eat large amounts of fodder so that they can produce the greatest foie gras, which some find inhumane. Opponents argue that unlike humans, geese don't have a gag reflex, so it's not as painful as humans think.

Vergil stated, “Half-demons don't have a gag reflex either.”

“Really?” Dante never knew his body had such a feature.

“You may try swallowing your fingers.”

He lamented, “No wonder I have always finished the pizza so fast. ”

Vergil continued to consume alcohol and he soon felt dizzy. He heard Dante call his name and felt a tightness in his chest. _VergilVergilVergil_ \- who is Vergil? Is it a mountain? Or a river? A river flowing with childhood, milk, blueberries, visions, poetry, imagination, music, and failure, and Dante shares the same source with it. All of these, the people and things they've been through together, the connections they've made, and the power that pervades him, like the identity he must show when speeding, the name on the credit card he must write down when signing. Together, they built what Dante calls _Vergil_.

When he walked into the house, Dante said, " _Welcome home, finally_." but Vergil knew that they could never return to the same home they had left.

"Dante," Vergil said at last, "being human is miserable."

"Yea, what a misfortune!" Dante clinked glasses with him: "Now let's swallow it all. "

end


End file.
